


Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

by Lonaargh



Series: Sterek [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Snow, awww, but eh, huddle for warmth, i guess, minor panic attack mention, probably not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonaargh/pseuds/Lonaargh
Summary: Derek and Stiles are on the road to gather some information from a nearby shaman. But they never get to their destination when things go wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Sharing a bed" "Fluff" "Hurt/Comfort" and "Huddle for warmth" squares on my prompt bingo card.

This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Stiles squinted as he tried to peer through the falling snow as he was driving his jeep along an increasingly slippery road. Scratch that. It wasn’t just ridiculous. It was bloody dangerous! Stiles snuck a glance sideways at his passenger, who was broodily staring out of the side window while brooding. Broodingly brooding.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Stiles,” Broody McBroodFace told him. Stiles whipped his head back, focusing straight ahead again, his cheeks burning a bright red at being caught looking at Derek the way he was. It wasn’t his fault that Derek was so distractingly handsome, now was it? Because Derek totally was. Everyone knew it. Hell, even _Derek_ knew it. He’d use his good looks and charm whenever the situation really called for it. Granted, he didn’t like to use it. But he could. And when he did, it was hot enough to make you cream your pants.  
  
“Stiles,” Derek sighed.

“What?”

“You’re staring again. Do I have something on my face?”

“I’m not- You are- Why are we even driving all the way to some Godforsaken village in the middle of Godforsaken nothing in the middle of the fucking night, in the middle of a fucking snowstorm?” Stiles motioned with his hand towards the aggressively falling snowflakes, in case Derek hadn’t noticed those yet.

“Language, Stiles,” Derek muttered, tiredly. He ran his hand through his hair, looking tired as hell. “And I didn’t know it would’ve been this kind of weather, or we wouldn’t have gone. But we’re well on our way now, so let’s see it through.”

Stiles grunted, peering through the windshield instead of answering. They were just going to get some stupid information from some stupid shaman in some stupid village. It had been quiet for _months_. Literally months! This information was just for a hypothetical situation that hadn’t happened. Yet. At all.

The snow was strangely hypnotic. Like watching static on a television. After a while you’d lose focus. Which was exactly what happened with Stiles. He was tired, they had been driving for quite some time already and he hadn’t dared let Derek drive his beloved Jeep. He was trying to stare between the white dots dancing before his eyes, lighting up in the headlights of his care. Maybe they should switch, maybe Derek should drive for a bit. Just for a bit, so Stiles could… close… his eyes…

“STILES!” Stiles’ head shot up, he jerked the steering wheel to the right in a reflex, totally expecting to hit a deer or some other creature that may have been walking on the road. “Wake up!” Derek’s voice sounded strangely panicked, and it was only then that Stiles truly woke up. He had fallen asleep behind the wheel, his tired brain effortlessly taking over the white snowflakes in his dream. He only had moments to register the car going straight for the trees on the side of the road. Only moments. And they were too short to do anything, except scream and cover his face before impact.

You know how people say that your life flashes in front of your eyes before you die? Stiles finally knew what they meant. Of course he had been in mortal danger before. But those kind of dangers, the supernatural kind, always seem kind of _not real_. While this, a huge tree, seemed quite solid and lethal.

The world around him moved in slow motion, he saw Derek open his mouth in what seemed like a shout, he saw the hood of his car wrap itself around the trunk of the tree. He even heard the awful screeching sound in slow motion. And just moments before his head hit his steering, he wondered about how much time he had to regret that his car was too old for an airbag. Then, everything went black.

* * *

Stiles dreamed about a great big pillow. It was a white pillow, filled with white goose feathers. It was also huge, big enough to cover the entire ground floor of his house. Stiles laughed and threw himself on top of the pillow, watching the white feathers fly up into the air before the gently drifted down again, looking a lot like snow dropping to the ground in a blizzard.

 A… blizzard? Stiles laughed uncertainly and shook his head. The very act of shaking his head hurt. Why did it hurt? Did he hit his head on the pillow? No. That couldn’t be possible, pillows are supposed to be-

  _“-les!”_

  
-soft. Pillows are supposed to be soft. The feathers kept on drifting down. Something was wrong. Stiles frowned. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t quite put his-

_“Stiles! Wake u-”_

finger on it. Was that Derek’s voice? The feathers started falling harder. And there was a strange hissing noise as well. Was his pillow leaking? Wait. A pillow couldn’t leak. What was going on?

  _“Stiles! Please, wake up!”_

* * *

A pounding head is what eventually woke Stiles up. A pounding head and the weird sensation that he was at sea, everything was bobbing up and down, up and down.

“God, I think I’m going to be sick,” he moaned, lifting his hand to clutch at his head.

“You’re awake,” Stiles felt Derek voice rumble, not as a question but more as a statement. Stiles started nodding, before he realized that he _felt_ Derek’s voice rumbling.   
He wasn’t on a ship. Derek was carrying him. Derek was carrying him and walking. He was leaning against Derek’s chest.

This made his stomach do a treacherous backflip, something that he couldn’t handle right now. “I’m gonna throw up,” he groaned. Derek immediately, but gently, stopped walking and put Stiles on his feet. Stiles felt his knees buckle, and he was already hurling up his dinner (burgers and fries they got at a shady truckstop a few miles away. They tasted just as horrible going up as they did going down) before he hit the ground. This wasn’t a good sign, was it? Didn’t vomiting after hitting your head indicate something like a concussion. God, Stiles felt miserable. He was grateful when he felt Derek’s hand on his back, it was strangely comforting. But also mortifying, because, you know, he just threw up in front of freaking Derek Hale.

“Better?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded, spitting to get the taste of bile out of his mouth. It didn’t work. He tried to stand up straight, and was swept off his feet again by Derek. Without so much as a grunt, Derek had picked him up and started walking, like nothing had happened.

“I can walk, you know,” Stiles protested weakly, ignoring his churning stomach and spinning head.  
“No, you can’t,” Derek answered, not slowing down, “You hit your head pretty hard on the steering wheel. You’ve been out cold for at least fifteen minutes. And you just threw up. You’re obviously not fit to walk.”

“Well, maybe I just wanted to take a nap,” Stiles grumbled, resisting the urge to pout, “maybe I was just very tired. And that dinner was just bad. I’m surprised you aren’t sick either. Must be that teflon werewolf stomach.”  
The snow was still falling heavily, making it almost impossible to see anything ahead. Stiles tried to huddle up closer to Derek, all the while trying to not let it seem like he was doing so. He felt cold, his head hurt, and he was way too close to someone he was desperately trying not to have a crush on. Today was not his day.   
  
He tried to look back over Derek’s shoulder, “Where’s the jeep?” He asked, already dreading the answer.  
Derek shook his head, trying to dislodge a few snowflakes that had settled on his eyelashes, “Totalled. With that tree still firmly lodged in its hood, I suppose.”

Well, that sucked. He’d bought that car with his own money. Sure, it was a stupid piece of junk most of the time, but it was _his_ stupid piece of junk.

“Where are we going?” He muttered, through chattering teeth.

“There’s a cabin not far from here, we need to take shelter from this horrible weather,” Derek rumbled back, still carrying Stiles as if he weighed absolutely nothing. Come to think of it, Stiles probably really didn’t weigh anything to Derek’s supernatural strength.  
“How the hell did you know about the cabin?” Stiles squinted, trying to make out anything ahead.   
“I could smell burned wood. Smelled like a fireplace. We’re almost there.” Derek’s answers were clipped, even more so than usual. He must be getting tired by now. No wonder, Stiles mused, it must be several degrees below now and there was already a few inches of snow on the ground. The snow made walking along difficult and treacherous. He could feel Derek’s boots almost sliding away on a slippery patch every once in awhile. Everything around them was dark, with only the dark silhouettes of the trees standing out as Derek plodded along.

 Then, out of nowhere, the cabin was there. A black shadow looming between the white static of the snowflakes.   
“I don’t think anybody is home,” Stiles commented, only now noticing how cold he really was. His lips could barely form the words, he was surprised that Derek could even understand what he was saying.   
“It’s a travelers cabin,” Derek said, “free to use for travelers if they get stuck out here, or if they’re backpacking.” He sniffed the air, “I don’t think anybody has been in here for at least a week.”

He kicked the door and it swung open easily. Stiles tried to look around, but the inside of the cabin was even darker than it had been when they were still outside. Derek gently put Stiles down on something soft, Stiles assumed it was the bed.

“Try to stay awake,” Derek told him sternly. Then he was gone, out of the cabin and closing the door behind him, leaving Stiles alone in the dark.

 “Are you seriously leaving me here like this?” Stiles called out weakly, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm, “Seriously?”.  
His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, and he could make out lumps of darkness that were probably furniture. Furniture, or scary monsters trying to eat him alive the moment he moved. Things would be fine, he reminded himself. Monsters weren’t re- wait. Stiles mentally kicked himself. He tried to ignore his heart beating faster and louder with each passing second. He also did his best to not acknowledge the tears burning in his eyes. He was not panicking. No. Not now. He would be fine. Just fine, once he remembered how breathing worked again.   
“Derek,” he whined softly, “come back.” The tears he had been holding back spilled over his cheeks, and he curled up on the bed, his knees tucked up against his chest. Keep breathing, that was the key. He wasn’t going to die here. His dad wouldn’t have to set up a search party. His dad would not find his corpse lying here, frozen and miserable.

_Try to stay awake_ , Derek had said. As if Stiles could fall asleep right now, surrounded by monsters, in the midst of a panic attack. The silent tears had made way for gross sobbing by now, Stiles couldn’t help it. He was terrified. He was alone and he was scared and _God_ , he wanted his dad so much. He wanted Scott. He wanted Derek. He wanted Derek to come back so bad.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a cold hand press against his cheek.  
“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s okay,” Derek’s voice sounded strange. Almost worried. “I’m back,” he went on, “I’m back. I had to go to pick up the firewood from the shed. I’m going to make a fire, get some warmth and light in here.”

Stiles nodded, although Derek probably couldn’t see it. He could hear Derek rummage around in the cabin, probably looking for things to light the fire. He had no idea that Derek was so _practical_ . It was strangely arousing.   
And sure enough, after a bit of muttering and cursing, Derek managed to light a fire in the fireplace. Instantly the monstrous shades fled, leaving only the innocent furniture behind. The cabin was actually kind of cozy, now that it wasn’t utterly pitch black anymore. Stiles looked around. It was very… cabin-y. Lots of wood. Exactly what you’d expect from a cabin in the woods. The bed he was sitting on was small, but comfortable. A clean blanket was laid over the bed. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how the clean blanket got here. Did travellers switch out blankets as they went along? Was there a cabin keeper? Was there a laundromat somewhere nearby? So many questions that didn’t make sense right now.

Derek was standing near the fire, eyeing Stiles carefully, as if he was a wounded deer about to run away.  
Stiles gazed back silently, letting his eyes wander over Derek’s impressive physique. How on earth was it allowed for anyone to look so hot when Stiles was feeling extremely miserable? The flickering light of the fire only complimented Derek’s… everything.   
“How’re you feeling?” Derek asked, still staring at Stiles.   
“Great, if you don’t count the pounding headache, nausea, and feeling of complete and utter dread. We’re stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere, with no food or water. Oh, and I have a taste in my mouth that seems to hint that I ate a corpse,” he grimaced, “or that I am a corpse. Either way. But, aside from all that, I’m doing just peachy.”

“There’s food in the cupboards, and this cabin has a water reservoir, so we won’t die anytime soon. These cabins are made to survive in. The snow will let up eventually and then we can get you to a doctor. Everything will be okay, Stiles.”

Stiles let out a sigh. Derek was probably right. Probably. Possibly.

“We should probably go to sleep,” Stiles muttered, rubbing his arms in an effort to regain some warmth. The fire was nice and all, but the air still felt chilly and the cold seemed to have seeped into Stiles’ bones.  
Derek’s eyes darted around the room and… was that a blush? No, it couldn’t have been. Derek Hale didn’t blush. Stiles followed his gaze and he felt his own cheeks burn when he realized what the issue was. There was only one bed. And no couch.   
“Ehm. Yes. Well,” his heart was pounding like a jackhammer again, but not out of fear this time, “It’s probably good to share a bed, you know, to preserve warmth and all that.”

Stiles cleared his throat, looking everywhere but at Derek. Sharing a bed with Derek. Even though it was only for practical reasons. This day just got a whole lot better.  
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Derek nodded slowly. Stiles’ eyes opened wider. He hadn’t known what to expect. But Derek agreeing so easily was not it. He watched as Derek came closer and swallowed with some difficulty. Oh god, it was really going to happen.

“Uhm, you’re sitting on the blanket. We should probably get under it?” Derek was taking off his shoes next to the bed, Stiles hurried to get underneath the blankets. They were both still fully dressed, but his brain didn’t seem to mind this much. He nearly squeaked when he felt the mattress dip under Derek’s weight, Derek’s legs brushing his. For a few moments they lay still like this, both feeling extremely awkward, trying not to touch each other in the cramped space the single bed offered.

“Look,” Stiles said, eventually, “this is not going to work like this. Neither of us is getting any sleep if we’re almost falling off the bed. I’ll go lie on my side, and you can come lie against me.”

He flipped around, ignoring the dull pounding in his head, not waiting for Derek’s response. Derek hesitated for a moment, “You want to… spoon?”

“Seriously? You want to discuss terminology right now? Worst timing ever, dude.”

Derek snorted and turned around, draping his arm around Stiles. Well, this certainly was a lot more comfortable.

Stiles was so tired. So very, very tired. And with Derek so close to him, he finally warmed up. Listening to Derek’s breathing, he calmed down enough to drift into a deep sleep.

* * *

He woke up several hours later when he felt Derek get out of bed. Lying perfectly still he listened to Derek’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor. There was something soothing about hearing Derek mull about, feeding new wood onto the fire, making sure everything was fine. Then he heard the rustle of clothing falling to the ground, and his heart nearly stopped. Was Derek really going to-? The mattress dipped again. Okay. Yes. Derek was really coming back into bed, wearing not much. Oh god. Oh god. Don’t think about it, Stiles told himself. Don’t think about half naked Derek Hale spooning you right now. Because that will only end up in awkward bo- whelp, too late.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly heard Derek whisper, so soft that he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t focused on… certain other things. Stiles held his breath, listening intently.

“We shouldn’t have driven on, we should have just turned back,” he felt Derek sigh, “I was so worried when you wouldn’t wake up after we hit that tree. I mean, I could hear your heartbeat, so I knew you were still alive, but-”.

Stiles frowned and turned around, facing Derek, “Dude, that’s so soppy. That’s so very much not you,” he looked up at Derek’s bushy eyebrows and tried to give his best encouraging smile, “It’s not your fault. I was sleepdriving, I should’ve let you take the wheel hours before we crashed.” Derek didn’t answer, he just kept staring at Stiles’ mouth. It was making Stiles extremely fidgety.  
“You know,” he went on, licking his lips nervously, “this could be considered as a bonding trip. Two bros, hanging out in a cabin in the woods. Only without the mandatory serial killer bursting in with a chainsaw. And without the steamy makeouts, obviously-”

“Stiles?” Derek interrupted him.  
“Yeah?”   
“Shut up.”

And just like that, Derek kissed him. Hard. Stiles squeaked against Derek’s mouth in surprise. He hadn’t expected this. He had _dreamt_ about it, sure. But never expected it. He had never expected Derek’s stubble to feel good against his own skin. He had never expected Derek’s lip to be so soft.   
Derek seemed to remember that Stiles had injured himself earlier, because he let up a bit. The attack on Stiles’ mouth made way for something softer, something slower. Something tender.   
Stiles kissed back, just as slow and just as soft.

After what seemed like ages, they broke away from each other, slightly out of breath.   
“Well…” Stiles started, not quite sure what to say.   
“Maybe it’s time for us to go back to sleep,” Derek said, bashfully. He was blushing again. This day was full of surprises.

Stiles nodded, although he wasn’t quite sure he could fall asleep again. There were a lot of things he wanted to do. Most of them involving Derek, by the way. But sleeping was not one of them.

But his body disagreed and it wasn’t long before he was nodding off again. Tomorrow they’d have to find a way to contact the civilized world and get out of here. Tomorrow they’d have to see how hurt Stiles really was. Tomorrow-   
Stiles felt Derek’s hands wander up his shirt and he smiled. Tomorrow was still a whole night away.

  



End file.
